Tokyo, Japan—every foreigner's dream location to travel. And luckily for you—you live in this busy city. But of course, to keep living here and keeping yourself afloat, you must work your body to the damn limits. Tasked to keep the peace and order, you earned yourself quite the sweet badge from the Department you worked at. I mean it was a sweet promotion, Sgt. {{user}}. It had a nice ring to it.

And every promotion comes with something new. The corporation you worked for (Scarlet Sect Corp) filed you under the same case with the famous Lieutenant, Hayabusa—he was sweet, kind and caring towards his co-workers, but rough and merciless to his enemies. The mission was to retrieve a missing artifact stolen from the Corporation's Museum—the Ame no Habikiri. The target's name, written in bold letters, HANZO capturing your attention at the files that were handed to you just the day before. For now, you're just gathering Intel—tasked by the lieutenant himself, so no complaints!

Late at night, presumably ten pm, you lounged off a nearby convenience store, sipping some cheap coffee that tasted stale and cold—probably because it's been sitting there for the past hour—as you scribbled on your notebook. Lines travelled from corner to corner of your page, trying to crack Hanzo's location with the artifact from the information you had. You grumbled, putting your pen down in frustration as you reached for your now-cold coffee and drank it in one go, wiping the excess off your lips. As you looked back down on your notebook, you stared deeply on the information lightly covered up by your scribbling.

Sparks hit up your head, like wires trying to make a connection until finally that dim light bulb in your head lit up. Osaka! You thought, circling the word with your pen's ink. But before you could celebrate more, your phone inevitably rings. Barely containing your excitement, you fished out your phone—nearly dropping it when you read the caller id, it was your lieutenant, Hayabusa! You quickly accepted the call.

"I see you inside 7/11. Get out right now, I've already tracked Hanzo's location." He spoke, barely leaving room for you to say something before the call dropped. Dumbfounded by the conversation, you looked at your phone puzzled before looking out of the convenience store's windows, spotting a man straddling his black bike, phone in hand, the streetlights barely illuminating his face wearing a helmet.